


Black, White, and Read All Over

by EmmyLouWho



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Author Louis, Bookstores, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Photographer Harry, Tumblr Prompt, Uncle Harry, Writer Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyLouWho/pseuds/EmmyLouWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Mr 30A was quite frankly exactly Louis’ type, and now he was going to be his neighbour for the next hour on this flight. Last time, Louis had been sitting in between a large man who hogged the armrests, and a frantic mother with a crying infant. This was like winning the plane seat lottery. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It seemed only logical that Louis introduce himself, but the handsome stranger wasn’t paying him any attention at all, completely engrossed in the book he was holding in his lap. And, hang on – that was his book. </em>
</p>
<p>Louis is an author, heading out on his first promotional tour. On the plane, he ends up sitting next to a gorgeous stranger who is reading his book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black, White, and Read All Over

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “author of book gets seated next to someone reading their book and making entertaining faces at each scene au”

Louis hated airports. He knew some people loved to romanticize them, go on about how they were a place of love and reunions and happiness, and yeah, okay, he had seen _Love Actually_ too, thanks. The thing is, those people conveniently glossed over the endless sets of queues, the food options that were poor at best, and the fact that all airports were stupidly big. The latter was currently of particular annoyance to Louis, as he tried to get from one side of Heathrow to the other in time to catch his flight. 

_“Attention passengers, this is your final boarding call for British Airways flight 1386, from London Heathrow to Manchester. Any passengers wishing to board this flight, please make your way immediately to gate 3.”_

At the sound of the cool voice over the speaker, Louis quickened his pace to the absolute fastest walk he could manage without actually breaking into a run. It didn’t matter how late he was, he categorically refused to be _that_ person running through an airport and looking ridiculous.

Carry-on backpack swinging over one shoulder while he juggled his phone, passport and boarding pass in his other hand, Louis swore to himself that his would be the last time he ever accepted a ride from Niall. Without fail, despite Louis’ best efforts to leave on time, something always went wrong. Today Niall had forgotten that his car was nearly out of petrol until they were already halfway to the airport and had to double back, costing them valuable time. One of these days he would actually miss a flight. Maybe then, Louis thought to himself, he would actually learn his lesson.   
Luckily for him, today he reached the gate with a solid ninety seconds to spare. He handed over his boarding pass to the waiting attendant, and smiled at her as she waved him though the gates. 

He paused in the walkway to take a moment to catch his breath and to comb his fingers through his hair, which was disheveled from his jaunt across the airport, and not in an attractive way. Now that he was actually here, and wasn’t worried about missing his flight, Louis could actually start to feel excited for this trip. 

Thinking about it still sent a shiver down his spine, the idea that he was being sent out by his publishers on his very own book tour. Sure, the tour was only a few dates booked in bookshops around the UK, and it wasn’t exactly an international takeover of the literary world, but this was way beyond the realm of anything that Louis could have imagined ever happening to him. 

He had never really intended to become an author, it had just sort of happened. During his second year of studying economics at uni, he’d been required to pick an elective subject from a different faculty. Louis had chosen a class called _Creative Writing For Beginners_ solely because it didn’t have an exam and the lectures never began before 11am. He had surprised himself more than anyone when he actually enjoyed himself. Compared to his economics classes, which involved endless dull readings, Louis found his Creative Writing lectures fascinating and he was soon excelling at his assignments, getting properly good grades for the first time in his university career. 

When he decided to change his major at the end of term, his mum had been concerned, but the fact that he would have to spend an extra year studying due to the switch or that his prospects of finding a job after graduation had significantly reduced did not deter Louis. He had finally found what he was good at, and most importantly what he actually _enjoyed_ studying, and he was pursuing it no matter what. 

In the end, his stubborn determination had paid off. At 24, he had a Bachelor of Creative Writing degree, and was now the proud author of a real, published book, that people were actually going to read. Well, hopefully, anyway. That was the point of this book tour – to go and promote his work, get his name out as a new author and hopefully sell a few copies. His agent had organised for him to do a reading at a handful of book shops around England, sign books, meet readers, that sort of thing.   
He couldn’t wait.

Heart rate back to normal and as presentable as he was going to get, Louis started walking to the open door of the plane, greeting the steward and handing over his boarding pass. 

“Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson,” he said, “you’re in seat 30B, on the left.”

Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, Louis headed in the direction that the steward had indicated, eyeing the small numbers printed above the seats until he found the one that read “30A Window/30B Aisle.”

He dropped his phone onto his seat so that he had both hands free to lift his carry on bag into the overhead luggage compartment. There was already a red rolling suitcase sitting there, and it took Louis a minute to arrange his bag to fit into the remaining space. 

He shut the compartment door and sat down in his seat, ready to get himself as comfortable as was possible for the flight ahead.

Reaching out to his left to grab his seatbelt, Louis got a good look at his seatmate for the first time. Seat 30A was occupied by a man, probably around his age, with gorgeous curly brown hair. Louis had never wanted to run his hand through a complete stranger’s hair before, but he guessed that there was a first time for everything. 

Louis refused to admit that he was on the shorter side (his tinder profile said that he was 5’9” and he was sticking to it), but this man had the kind of legs that must have been uncomfortable in the small amount of legroom in economy. Even sitting down, it was evident that they were long. Stretched out in front of him, scuffed boots crossed at the ankle, his feet were resting several inches in front of Louis’ own. 

Mr 30A was quite frankly exactly Louis’ type, and now he was going to be his neighbour for the next hour on this flight. Last time, Louis had been sitting in between a large man who hogged the armrests, and a frantic mother with a crying infant. This was like winning the plane seat lottery. 

It seemed only logical that Louis introduce himself, but the handsome stranger wasn’t paying him any attention at all, completely engrossed in the book he was holding in his lap. And, hang on – that was _his_ book. 

It’s not like it was the first time that he’d ever seen someone reading his book. It was just that that someone was usually a small child, looking at the pictures while their parent read aloud to them, because his book - the literary masterpiece that represented over a year of hard work – was firmly in the category of children’s literature. Tall, broad-shouldered, curly-haired, _gorgeous_ men were not exactly his target audience. And yet, Louis’ seatmate was reading his book as intently as if it were the new George R.R. Martin novel, brow furrowed and mouth moving slightly as if he were reading the text aloud to himself in his head. 

Louis suddenly realised that he had been shamelessly staring for longer than would be deemed acceptable, and he quickly brought his eyes back to stare straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of him. He was just about to pull his phone out again to send a last pre-departure text to his mum when he heard a gasp from beside him and his eyes involuntarily jumped back to his neighbour. The man had turned the page and was now holding the book very close to his face, eyes wide. He must have finally felt Louis’ eyes on him, because he turned and smiled sheepishly at him. 

“Sorry,” he said, “a bit of a plot twist.” He held the book in his hands up slightly as if that explained everything. 

“Do you often read children’s books on planes?” Louis blurted out, eyes widening as his brain caught up to his mouth. Only five seconds into a conversation with the most beautiful man he had ever seen and he had already managed to be rude. 

He didn’t seem offended, however, letting out a small chuckle. 

“No, um, it’s actually for my niece? Her name’s Katie, she lives in Manchester with my sister and she just turned four last month. She had an under-the-sea themed party and we both dressed up as mermaids…”

He must have seen the look on Louis’ face because he cut himself off.

“Anyway, I’m a freelance photographer, and I’m heading to Manchester to take photos at my sister’s best friend’s wedding, and I promised Katie that I’d bring her a present when I came to visit, but I’ve been so busy with work that I didn’t have any time to get her anything. So I was looking in the Waterstones at the airport, and the girl working there recommended this book to me. She said that it’s new, so Katie probably doesn’t already have it, and I really liked the front cover so I bought it, but I don’t want to give it to Katie without checking it first. So that’s what I’m doing. Checking it, I mean.”

Louis was speechless. 

Undeterred by the lack of response, the man stuck out his hand for Louis to shake. 

“I’m Harry.”

“Louis.”

“Oh, the author of this book is called Louis too!” Harry pointed at the front cover.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh, have you read it then? I - “

“No. Well, yeah, I have read it, but what I mean is that I know because I wrote it.”

“You did?”

Harry didn’t seem convinced, so Louis carefully took the book from his hands, opening it to the back cover and pointing to the small square photo. 

“See – that’s me. Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry inspected the photo, then looked up at Louis, and back to the photo. 

“Louis lives in London with his pet fish, Chips,” he read, “When he is not writing, Louis likes playing football and spending time with his family.”

He turned back to face Louis. “You named your pet fish ‘Chips’?” he asked. 

“Of course I did,” Louis replied. “Why, what would you name a fish? No, let me guess, it would be something awful like Bubbles.”

“I think Bubbles is a perfectly nice name for a fish!” Harry said, a cheeky grin on his face, and – oh god. He had dimples. Louis was well and truly done for. He was saved from having to come up with a retort when the announcement was made to prepare for take-off and the flight attendants began checking seatbelts. 

*

As soon as the plane had successfully made it into the air and was cruising steadily towards Manchester, Harry had turned to Louis and struck up the conversation again. He seemed very interested in hearing more about Louis’ book, and Louis was more than happy to oblige.

“I’m actually heading out on a book tour. Well, ‘tour’ makes it sound more exciting than it actually is, I suppose, it’s really only three signings.” 

“No, Louis, that’s very exciting!” Harry said, and Louis could tell by the earnest look on his face that he genuinely meant it. “Having your book be published is a big deal.”

Louis hoped that the red blush blooming on his cheeks wasn’t too noticeable. 

“Thanks. But enough about me, tell me about your work! You said you’re a photographer?”

“Yeah, erm, I’m just doing bits and pieces at the moment. You know, weddings, birthdays, I cover events sometimes for the local newspaper.”

“And you’re doing a wedding this weekend?”

“Yeah, my sister’s best friend is getting married. I’ve known her basically all my life, and she asked me if I’d mind taking a few pictures for her. I said I’d do the whole package for her as a wedding present.”

“Do you want to be a wedding photographer?” Louis asked. 

“No, I don’t think so,” said Harry, “I love doing it for people I know, and I wouldn’t mind doing it sometimes, but I really like going to weddings and I don’t ever want it feel like work.”

Louis felt like he was melting into his seat with fondness. This boy was something else. 

“I’d like to have my own portrait studio one day,” Harry explained, “doing family photos and kids photoshoots and things like that, but in a unique way, something different than the clichéd stiff poses people normally end up with.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” said Louis, “my Mum has an awful photo of me and my siblings hanging up in her house where we’re all awkwardly sitting on top of each other.”

“How many siblings do you have, then?” Harry asked. 

“There’s seven of us.”

“Seven?!”

“Yeah,” Louis laughed, “Mum had two sets of twins. The last lot are still toddlers.”

“Awww! Do you have any pictures?”

_Did Louis have any pictures,_ honestly. He took his role as a big brother very seriously and loved to show them off at any opportunity. 

With Harry fawning over photos of his baby siblings, Louis settled back against his seat. He couldn’t believe it – what were the chances of being sat on a plane next to a person reading a book you wrote, and then that person being gorgeous and sweet to boot? He wasn’t a mathematician, but it was clear that it was his lucky day. 

*

_“Ladies and gentlemen, we have touched down in Manchester Airport. Local time is 1:30pm, and the temperature is currently 15 degrees. For your safety, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until we have parked at the gate and the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. Thank you again for travelling with British Airways, we hope you had a pleasant journey and will enjoy the rest of your day here in Manchester.”_

Louis had never been less excited to be in Manchester. It felt a bit ridiculous, being disappointed that a flight was over, but the hour in the air had flown by with Harry by his side, talking and telling bad jokes. He didn’t really want it to end. 

It seemed like Harry might have been feeling the same way. Although they’d been talking non-stop for the entire hour in the air, once the plane had begun its descent, quietness had come over them. 

Louis turned his phone back on and it immediately began pinging with notifications. He ignored them for the time being, scrolling through his apps to find his contacts. 

“Here,” he held his iPhone out to Harry, “put your number in? Maybe when we’re both back in London we could catch up sometime.”

“Sure,” Harry said, already typing. “It’s been really nice to meet you.”

“You too, Curly,” Louis said, noting the way Harry’s face lit up in response. 

They gathered up their belongings, and Louis followed Harry down the narrow aisle and off the plane, smiling at the steward who waved goodbye to them. They walked side-by-side through the tunnel into the main terminal of the airport.

“Do you have any bags to pick up?” Louis asked. 

“No,” Harry said, “I bring my camera equipment with me on the plane so it doesn’t get damaged.” He gestured to the small suitcase he was rolling behind him. “And I have some things at my sister’s I leave there for when I visit, so I don’t need to bring much.” 

Louis didn’t have a checked bag either, which certainly made things easier, but again he found himself illogically wishing for something that would delay his time in the airport. Unfortunately, he could only prolong the inevitable for so long. They walked straight past the baggage claim and exited through the doors of the airport. 

“My sister is coming to pick me up, do you need a ride?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Louis said regretfully, “my publishers organised a car to take me to my hotel.” 

“Ooh, fancy!” Harry teased.

“Oh shut up. I should probably go find them actually. But thanks for offering, really.”

Harry’s reply was cut off by the arrival of a small blue car pulling up in front of them, “Oi, loser, get in!” yelled from the driver’s side window. 

“That’s Gemma,” Harry explained. 

A blonde head suddenly appeared out the car window. “C’mon H, let’s go,” she said. “Say goodbye to the cute stranger and get in the car.”

“Um,” Harry said, suddenly red in the face, “I’d better…” he pointed to the car where Gemma was now tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist. 

“See you, Lou,” he said, “I’ll text you!”

“You’d better!” Louis said, and then Harry was gone. 

Louis sighed. He looked around for his ride, waving when he spotted a man holding a small sign reading “Tomlinson.” He was looking forward to checking into his hotel, ordering room service, and getting a good night’s sleep before his first signing the next day. 

*

Louis was not generally the type of person who got nervous. When his schoolmates had stressed over sitting their final exams, Louis hadn’t been bothered. When he went for his driving test, he stayed calm the whole time. Meeting new people, going on first dates, spiders. None of these things really made him nervous. 

But right now, sitting on an unopened box of Harry Potter books in the back storeroom of a Manchester bookshop, Louis had to admit that he was nervous. What if he made a fool of himself in front of a crowd of people? His publishers may have been confident in him but Louis suddenly had some concerns. There were so many ways he could embarrass himself in front of a room of people. Even worse than that, what if nobody showed up at all? Just Louis, sitting alone at a table surrounded by hopeful Sharpies and stacks of his book.   
Oh God. 

He was wondering if he still had enough time to turn around and pretend this had never happened when the door to the storeroom opened. The shop manager popped her head in, smiling at him politely.

“We’re ready for you!”

Louis took a deep breath, running his hands over his knees a few times before he stood up, following her out to his probable doom. 

He walked out into the front of the shop to see a chair set up for him in the middle of the room, a semi-circle of small children sitting on the floor around it already, parents standing in groups at the back of the room. He was going to do a reading of his book first, and then would move over to the table at the side of the room and would sign copies for those that wanted them. 

Louis sat down quickly and was immediately handed a copy of his book. He looked out at the crowd gathered, choosing to ignore the adults in the room and focus all his attention on the kids in front of him. He started to read, and felt all his nerves melt away. 

The kids were adorable, interacting with him as he read and laughing in all the right places. He was so preoccupied with his responsive audience that he didn’t notice the tall curly-haired man smiling at him from the back of the room. It wasn’t until Louis had signed what must have been the hundredth copy for the morning that he looked up and saw two pairs of familiar green eyes looking back at him. One belonged to the cute blonde-pigtailed little girl who had been sitting in the front row of his reading, and the other was – 

“Harry?” 

“Oh hi Louis! Fancy seeing you here!” he said cheekily. “This is Katie, my niece.”

“Hiya!” she chirped. 

“What – what are you doing here?” Louis was glad that the pair seemed to be the last in line, and therefore there weren’t as many people around to see him gaping like an idiot. 

“Well, you said that you were doing a book signing in Manchester, so I did some Googling. Katie wanted to hear you read.”

“But Uncle Harry, you said that if I came here with you you’d buy me ice cream!” 

“Erm,” said Harry, “I did say that.” 

Katie turned to face Louis. “My uncle thinks you’re pretty,” she said importantly. “I heard him telling my Mum.” 

“Okay, Katie, why don’t you go have a look at the books over there?” Harry interrupted, embarrassment clear on his face. 

“But I haven’t gotten my book signed yet!” She held her copy up.

“Here,” Louis said, reaching out for the book. _To Katie,_ he wrote on the front page, signing his name and punctuating it with a smiley face. 

Satisfied, Katie thanked Louis politely and took her book off to the kids reading section, leaving the two men alone at the signing table. 

“So, you think I’m pretty?” Louis asked with a smirk. Harry made a strangled noise and hid his face in his hands. 

“I swear Katie is normally a perfectly nice, sweet child when she’s not spilling all my dirty secrets.”

Louis laughed. It had been less than twenty four hours since he had left Harry at the doors of Manchester Airport, and he was surprised by how happy he was to see him again. He had been sure that the small space of the plane had exaggerated the attraction, but here in the reality of a new day, he was more endeared than ever. 

“Well, come on, Curly,” he said, “I know you didn’t Google my schedule and come all this way just to tell me I’m pretty. I’ll sign a book for you.”

Harry made a confused noise, but Louis had already uncapped his Sharpie again. He knew just what to write. 

_Dear Harry,_  
I think you’re pretty too.   
Dinner? 

Harry turned the book around so he could read the inscription. 

“Louis, I’m not going to dinner with you,” he said seriously.

“Oh,” said Louis quietly, smile dropping. “I-“

But Harry kept talking as if he hadn’t heard. 

“No, I couldn’t possibly wait that long,” he continued, “how about lunch instead?”

Louis whacked Harry on the arm. “That was not funny,” he said, “you’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

“So is that a yes, then?”

“Oh, finally asking him out are you, little brother? Good, now you can stop sending me text messages about his face.”

Neither of them had noticed Gemma approach, and Harry looked pained. 

“I swear all the females in my family are working together to embarrass me.”

Louis laughed, and turned to hold his hand out to Gemma. “Hi, nice to see you again. I’m Louis.” 

She shook his hand with a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, I’m aware,” she said. “I’m just here to pick up Katie, H, so you’re formally relieved of uncle duty for the afternoon. Use your freedom well.” 

She clapped Harry on the shoulder, gave Louis a wink, and then they were alone again. 

“Well,” Louis said, “you heard what she said. My book signing is officially over, I’m free, you’re free, let’s go be free together.” 

“I’d like that,” Harry said, holding his hand out like an offering. Louis took it, intertwining their fingers shyly. They walked out of the bookshop together, hand in hand, and Louis had never been more grateful for _Creative Writing for Beginners._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought :)


End file.
